


Truth Was...

by FandomsAreMyFuel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anderlock, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, M/M, One-Shot, Please more love for him, Still can't write Anderson, is that the name, pride prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAreMyFuel/pseuds/FandomsAreMyFuel
Summary: Truth was, Sherlock and Anderson never hated each other.
Relationships: Philip Anderson/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Truth Was...

_Truth was, Sherlock and Anderson never hated each other._

_Truth was, Sherlock respected Anderson for what he had gone through, from the beginning to where he stood._

_Truth was, Anderson could sympathize with Sherlock more than he could with the people he stood next to, gossiping._

_Truth was, Anderson and Sherlock could imagine a place where they shook hands and smiled at each other with rather than sneering and throwing insults._

Anderson leaned back on his chair, watching the newest episode of Doctor Who on his phone. He could hear the tone of Lestrade commanding him to get his butt out of his chair, but it was his lunch-break and he was going to use it; he hadn't had a lunch break since last month, that was how busy he was. With his legs crossed at his ankles and his feet on his table, he watched the scene unfold.

Sally shuffled over. "Honestly, this episode?" She placed her hands on her hips.

"Newest episode," Anderson narrowed his eyes at the screen, "Do you think I'm going to skip it?" He leaned in closer.

"Put on your glasses, Philip," Sally said, trotting away from Anderson's desk that was already cluttered with papers, but at the least, they were completed and waiting for approval. He took a glimpse at Sally before sighing and do just what she said.

The credits rolled and he sighed again, glaring at the clock on the wall. He rather sit here bored out of his mind than go back to being on forensics today. He stared at the black screen of the pocket device. He picked it up and shoved it into his pockets, heading towards the water dispenser that had that ' _blue-tinted, big-*ss jug on it_ ' as described by Lestrade.

Anderson chuckled. He took one of the cups from the smaller wooden table on the side of the machine. He had expected the water to go everywhere, which happened, but what he didn't expect was Lestrade coughing as he slammed the door. Sherlock scrambled inside and pushed Anderson over, taking a cup and gulping the water down like a man in the Sahara presented with a small bottle of water.

"This is your fault!" Sherlock pointed with his now empty cup at Lestrade. Lestrade looked more pissed than Anderson ever saw, but then again, he hadn't seen Lestrade these few months. Both men had multiple cuts and bruises on their hands and faces as if they just got into a boxing match.

"My fault? Mate, you're delusional! I f*cking saved you." Lestrade coughed into his sleeves a couple of times again and leaned on the shut door as Anderson handed him a cup, which he thanked the scientist by nodding.

" _Saved_ is hardly the word to describe it as," Sherlock muttered and Lestrade muttered something similar back before swinging the door open and marching out. "Insufferable." The murmurs came.

"Well, you pissed him off." Anderson shook his head and walked to his desk. He was half-expecting for Sherlock to retort with a similar comment directed at him.

"I didn't piss him off, he pissed himself off by being an idiot." Anderson was more surprised at the fact Sherlock had responded with a workable sentence. Philp opened his desk and grabbed a dozen band-aids and handed them to Sherlock.

_Truth was, Philp didn't want to see Sherlock with cuts over his face, looking a bit more helpless than usual._

"You're welcome." Anderson shrugged and went back to the thing he was doing before, being bored.

_Truth was, Sherlock wanted to say 'thank you.'_

The next time Philp sat down at his desk, he found a plastic bag full of familiar white styrofoam boxes of Chinese food. It had a note on the top box. The words were scrawled in a black pen but it somehow still elegant.

_'You can always tell a good Chinese place by examining the bottom third of the door handle.'_

"Who is this from?" Anderson asked Sally, who answered with a half-hearted shrug, then went back to her own mountain at work.

_Truth was, Anderson knew who it was from._


End file.
